


The Need for Expedient Silence

by Catchclaw



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fear of Discovery, King Thor (Marvel), Queen Loki, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Loki was a queen after all, co-Ruler of all the Aesir, and what better way to best mark a treaty with Midgard, with its strange defenders called the Avengers, than to have her way with their kind of king?





	The Need for Expedient Silence

**Author's Note:**

> For the MCU Kink Bingo!   
> Square fill: Risking Getting Caught

Loki hiked her skirts to her hips, spread her thighs, and leaned her back against the smooth stone wall, her lips held caught in a furious smile.

“We can’t do this,” the human said, his blond hair streaked with sweat, his mouth flush from Loki’s kisses. “We can’t do this _here_. What if your king catches us?”

“What if he does?” Loki said. “You worry too much.” She speared her fingers over her cunt, teasing the velvet there and the wet. The wet that was this man’s responsibility, his doing; the very place he was aching to plunge into, if the strain at the front of his strange uniform was any sign.

They meant something, the colors of it, the banner on his shoulder, the star-shaped crest; the man had explained them to Loki at dinner, when the king sat on Loki’s right and this lovely creature on her left. But even then, in the first hours of the festivities, Loki’s wheels had been turning; she saw the way the man’s eyes tumbled to her breasts, the way he stared a little too long when Thor swept a hand in Loki’s hair and pulled her in for a kiss. Indeed, it had not taken so very much pretense to draw the man away from the feasting--a mention of Loki’s library, a tour offered and graciously accepted--less time still for Loki to lure him into the shadows just outside the hall with the promise of a kind of knowledge sweeter than could be found in any tome.

Now, the top of Loki’s exquisite gown was unlaced and parted, her breasts beautifully sore from the clutch of the captain’s eager hands, the greedy suck of his mouth, and she was ready--oh Norns, was she--to have the man apply his talents elsewhere.

Loki had not meant to seduce him or even to pay him any mind; diplomacy was much more her husband’s affair. It was not so much that Loki preferred war--for she abohored waste, needless spills of blood and treasure--but that there were so many other things about ruling Asgard that interested her far more than long, pointless parties where the assembled drank too much and talked too long and generally conspired to keep she and Thor too long out of bed. Truth be told, she usually found such festivities boring, akin to watching wheat grow, but they were, as Thor had reminded her that evening as he laced her lovingly into her favorite jade gown, a fundamental part of her duties.

“You rule the Aesir as my equal,” Thor had said, the formal words no match for the amusement in his voice, the smirk he send Loki in the mirror. “Which means that sometimes, my dear, if I must be bored senseless, then so do you.” He’d kissed her shoulder, the low curve of her neck. “Besides, I think they might interest you, these humans. They are rather extraordinary.”

Now, with the leader of those humans before her, with the echoes of his hands on her skin, she thought perhaps that her husband, as always, had found a way to be right.

“Come here,” she said, crooking one slickened finger. “Come here, _menneskelig_ , and taste what you have made.”

The man, their captain, he made a sound like a sea serpent dying and much to Loki’s delight, fell to his knees. He moved quick across the floor and folded his hands in Loki’s skirts, took them from her, held them tightly against her hips. And then he breathed in, the tip of his nose brushing the bloom of Loki’s clit, the scratch of his beard so like Thor’s where it caught the edge of her folds that Loki could not help but sigh and gently shudder.

“Is this all for me?” the human said softly. He kissed her damp curls. “The jewel of Asgard laid bare for my eyes?”

Loki grinned and grabbed at his hair. Oh, she did like this one. “I would prefer your tongue to your eyes, captain.”

The human hummed. “Steve,” he said, easing the words over the heat of her. “My given name is Steve. I’d like it if you called me that. Especially when I’m licking your clit.”

And then he was, fiercely, his nails catching the pale flesh of her hips. There was no hesitation in his fervor, no shame, and it seemed to Loki that he was drowning himself in her, deliberate, devouring of much of her cunt as he could with each breath.

“Yes,” she whispered, a far-away fire. “Yes, Steve, yes. I like that.”

He chuckled, the sound making her shake, and then she was lost again, sunk deep into the pleasures wrought by this man and his quick, agile tongue. She laid her head back, her long hair snagging on stone, and somewhere, beyond the circle that they burned together, she heard the celebration still raging: the loud, happy shouts of her husband, the raucous cheers of Asgard's soldiers and of Steve’s own guard, a strange company. There was one who claimed to be made of iron and another agile with a bow and a third who said little and watched everyone with suspicion through a curtain of red hair. Loki liked that one.

“What would you people say if they saw you here?” she said, scratching at the back of the human’s neck. “What would they say if they saw you, their leader, on your knees in supplication to the Aesir’s very queen?”

Steve groaned, his mouth never slowing in its task. Loki saw a shiver run straight down his back.

“Oh,” Loki said, wondering, “oh, you’d like them to discover you thus, wouldn’t you?”

Another sound, smothered, but no less incensed.

“To push their way through the door and see you like this,” Loki said, “your face wet from my pleasure and your cock hard and untouched? Oh, Steve.”

He looked up at her, those sapphire skies hot, and something in her trembled. Made her cunt clench.

The tips of her fingers brushed his temple. “They see only their captain, a leader, in you, don’t they? Where you would have them see a man.”

His hands stumbled, some of her skirts falling free, and he growled in frustration and lifted his mouth away, scowling. “These are in the way, damn it. Can’t you take them off?”

Loki petted his face, ran her fingers through his dampened beard. “No, sweet.”

Steve stared up at her, imploring. “Or use your magic?”

A smile, imperious. “I will do none of those things.”

“Why not?”

She rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip and in. “I like watching you fight for what you want.”

His eyes again, burning. Fuck, those eyes. Would she ever forget them? “I want to make you come,” he said.

Heat bubbled out from her center, spread flush over her breasts. “Then captain, my darling--stop talking.”

A flash of teeth, a grin, and then there was the shock of fabric tearing, the sound; the work of a dozen fey seamstresses ripped asunder in an instant by this gorgeous, insolent human, who tossed them in tatters at her feet. She was bared to him now, from her waist to her shoes--but the look on his face, the need, tore away her indignation with the very same speed.

“There,” Steve said, in a voice not unlike thunder. “That’s better.”

He fed her two fingers and gave back his tongue and she had to clap a hand to her mouth to keep from letting loose a noise that would have pierced even the roar of the revelry, that would have sent guards, if not a king or a man made from iron, to their very side.

Steve gave her no quarter, no room to breathe or to think. He pinned her hip to the wall and sucked at her clit, teased it with the very tip of his tongue. He hummed into her flesh, hungry, and fucked her at a steady slow pace that made her wail behind her hand, made her ache with every flex. And she, she kept a hand in his hair, those soft, golden waves, and wove the other over her nipples, petting them, pinching them while he watched her, the twin stars in his face never wavering.

_Come_ , his countenance said to her. _Come now and come never so that my labor might never stop_.

When at last Loki could resist him no more, she squeezed his face with her thighs, gasping, and he moaned in response, a low, secret sound of desire that made her lose all her senses. She curled around his fingers, slickhot and incredibly tight, and forgot herself, where they were, the need for expedient silence, and as she came and came and came, she painted the very shadows of the All Fathers with his name.

Steve fucked her, after; opened his odd suit and drew out a beautiful cock, expecting just the touch of her hand, but how could she part from such a _menneskelig_ , such a man, without having all of him? She was a queen after all, co-Ruler of all the Aesir, and what better way to best mark a treaty with Midgard, with its strange defenders called the Avengers, than to have her way with their kind of king?

He was strong, her lover, and yet inexplicably tender. Where his mouth had been fierce, his fucking was gentle, a kind of worship; it made something within her, something too near to her heart, fall soft and drift towards tender. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he lifted her against the wall as if she were made of feathers, her bones spun from wind, and worked his cock within her as if it were a gift and oh, fuck, Loki thought, reeling with rekindled need, how it was.

He kissed her breasts, her throat, her mouth, rubbed her own slick against her bare skin, and when he drew back, Loki saw his eyes had run from that stunning blue towards black.

“If I pray to you when I’m on Earth again, will you hear it?”

She smoothed a hand through his hair. “If you wish.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Few of your kind pray to me these days, darling, so I don’t make it a habit to listen. But if you wish for me to, to keep my ears attuned to you, then it would be my pleasure.”

His face was a flutter, like a storm of butterflies, each thrust harder now and more desperate. “Yes. Please.”

Loki tipped forward and found Steve’s mouth. Soft, it was, and so beautifully hot. Humans always did always run red. Said: “What prayers will you send to me, Steve? Hmm? What words will you call that you want me so much to hear?”

His nails scored her skin and he cried out in the space between them, his pleasure a bridge between worlds, and when he shattered, his reason crushed to dust like a meteor struck, his voice fell to a whisper that buried its way into her heart:

“Loki,” Steve murmured, so faintly, so sweet, “Loki. My queen.”


End file.
